


Californication

by mischiefmanager



Series: The Greater Fool Series [6]
Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Aged-Up (19-20 years old), Anal Sex, Awkward Conversations, Humor, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 00:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13822317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischiefmanager/pseuds/mischiefmanager
Summary: Eddie’s face is red. His ears are red. Steam is probably coming off the top of his head.  Also he’s definitely going to die of suffocation under the blankets. Isn’t there a way he can like, fast forward through this conversation so he doesn’t have to actually experience it as it happens?But he must be tougher than he thinks he is because he says, “I kind of want to…you know, trythat.With you. Like…”





	Californication

Eddie is like...ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that if he and Richie hadn’t gotten together, he would’ve died a virgin and been totally okay with it. Because sex is terrifying.

Conceptually, that is. The idea of sex and the mixing of all those germs and the possibility of diseases sneaking in there has petrified Eddie as far back as he can remember. Like, there is a chance Eddie was stressing about the concept of smashing genitals while he was still in utero. He probably cried when he was born mostly because he was touching a vagina.

Well, that was for sure the first and last vagina Eddie will ever be getting near. Not that he ever found the idea of dicks any better, because he _didn’t,_ except that his libido or whatever switch flipped in his brain when he was fourteen was like, _Yo, you like this shit now. Have fun with that, and also fuck you._ And Eddie just had to be like… _Okay. Thanks, I hate it._ Sadly, Eddie learned that sexual awakenings do not come with gift receipts.

Eddie was dragged into all this puberty and sex stuff kicking and screaming. He never asked to have a sexuality  _ at all,  _ much less one that he’s going to end up taking flak about for his whole life, and he feels like he’s expected to wish he was straight because everything about it—from like, a social standpoint—seems like it would be easier. But then...then he looks at Richie, and thinks about the way Richie is and the way they are together. Richie makes all the bullshit that comes with being gay absolutely worth it.

Sometimes, they’ll be out having lunch on Santa Monica with Richie’s work friends, many of whom are LA natives, and one of them will comment about how hard things are. Eddie knows this is the wrong attitude to have, but, sitting there in a booth with Richie’s arm wrapped around his waist, he always wants to be like... _ You think  _ this _ sucks? We are at the fucking  _ French Market  _ right now, everyone here is gay. Have you ever tried being gay somewhere other than West Hollywood?  _ It’s not that he disagrees with anything they’re saying, and he of course wants people to keep fighting for better treatment...like, anti-discrimination laws and hospital visitation rights and stuff, but he remembers being worried about people giving him shit for  _ looking  _ at Richie for a second too long. Compared to life back in Derry, this is fucking  _ paradise. _

Richie is more of an activist than Eddie. Eddie just kind of wants to exist quietly and comfortably with his handful of friends and Richie. He doesn’t really go out of his way to meet people at school. There is an GSA that meets on campus; Eddie has been invited multiple times but never attended. Why people keep giving him flyers about it is a mystery to Eddie. He must just give off a vibe or something, because—unlike Richie—he doesn’t walk around dressed like one of the Village People. He  _ blends in,  _ or tries to _.  _ He votes consistently for progressive candidates but doesn’t like, go campaigning. He hasn’t quite worked up the enthusiasm for Pride that Richie has—Richie, who came home from the last parade smeared in glitter that Eddie ended up picking out of their sheets for weeks—and all the gay people he knows are friends he’s met through Richie.

It’s funny that Richie has more like, gay pride than Eddie does because Richie is bisexual, and he  _ never _ fails to correct people who assume otherwise. He does it not because he has an issue with the whole gay thing (he clearly doesn’t, considering his entire sexual history and future consists of Eddie, Eddie and more Eddie), but because he is perpetually annoyed by the general consensuses about bisexual men, which seem to be either that: they don’t exist, or if they have a choice in the matter, they should just go for women.  _ Do I look like the kind of person who is here to make life easier for myself?  _ he says to people who ask him stuff like,  _ Wouldn’t it be easier to just date girls?  _ Eddie loves that rebuttal. Richie has never lost an argument on the subject either, partly because he’s right, but mostly because he’s so insistent that people eventually end up backing off just to shut him up.

Possibly to arm himself with information for these frequent debates he’s so fond of, Richie took a trip down to the YMCA—at least, that’s where Eddie assumes he went—a few months ago and returned with a backpack full of pamphlets, which he dumped out onto the dining room table before leaving for work. Eddie came home from class and found that there was nowhere for him to put his salad until he sorted them out.

It was clear that Richie had not like...read, or even looked at the pamphlets before stuffing them into his backpack. There was probably like a big desk there full of displays or something and Richie must’ve just grabbed one of everything without checking to see if they applied to him in any way, which explained why there was stuff about like trans rights rallies and adoption services for lesbians mixed in with HIV awareness flyers and lists of shelters that accept gay teenagers. As well as a handful of free condoms. Eddie was tempted to just do an arm sweep across the table and let everything fall into the trash can, when one of the titles caught his eye.

The pamphlet itself was made out of plain white printer paper with purple text and folded like an accordion, but it said  _ Sexual Hygiene for Gay Men _ on it, and that got his attention, because hey, Eddie is a gay man, and has always been all about the hygiene. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was expecting to read—like, has he been cleaning himself wrong? Do gay men shower differently than straight men? Apparently there was enough information to make a whole pamphlet about it, and he’d figured the Gay Experts or whoever works over at the Y would probably know better than anyone. He’d pulled it out of the pile and felt the blood drain out of his face when he started to read.

It was...basically, a set of instructions. For how to clean out your ass.

Eddie had had to sit down. But he kept reading.

It was pretty honest, like it didn’t mince words, but was mercifully free of any diagrams or pictures. And it didn’t immediately specify what the  _ purpose  _ of cleaning out your ass was, but that much Eddie was able to put together for himself.

Clean out your ass so that someone else can stick their dick in it.

Eddie had become aware at some point in high school—he doesn’t remember exactly where or how he learned this—that  _ gay sex _ (according to most people) means  _ up the butt,  _ and his reaction had been,  _ Not for me, it doesn’t.  _ And so far it hasn’t. He and Richie have been getting naked together since tenth grade, and at first it was handjobs, and then for like a year it was him giving Richie handjobs and Richie giving him blowjobs, and then it became both of them giving each other blowjobs, but Eddie pulling away and finishing with his hand because he still couldn’t deal with the idea of having jizz in his mouth.

More recently, since they moved into their LA apartment about a year ago, he’s started letting Richie come in his mouth. Because it’s their house, and he keeps a trash can right by the bed to spit into, and he has mouthwash and floss on his nightstand for right after, and… God, sometimes Eddie wonders why Richie puts up with all this bullshit when he could just walk up Sunset and find some cute twink who’d enthusiastically let him do literally anything he wanted.

It’s not that Richie has ever  _ said  _ anything like that, or even acted like he was thinking it. In fact, beyond expressing his fervent desire to blow Eddie, Richie has never been the one to introduce anything new into their sex life, and he’s never seemed to be anything but  _ absolutely thrilled  _ about doing whatever Eddie wants to in bed. Eddie is positive that he would still be perfectly okay living in Handjob Land with Eddie indefinitely if Eddie hadn’t gotten comfortable with the idea of moving further. And as far as Eddie’s been concerned, his ass has always been a permanent no-go zone. Exit only. Like, absolutely unthinkable.

Hmm.

Eddie had put the pamphlet aside for the time being. He’d skimmed through the others—there was one about bisexual erasure, a couple offering resources and counseling for people with shitty families, some gay event schedules—Eddie had put those into a separate pile, which he left in the middle of the table, and threw everything else into the recycling. Then he’d eaten his salad in silence.

Then he’d taken the pamphlet into the bathroom—why the bathroom, he’s still not sure, but he felt weird looking at it anywhere else—and read through the whole thing in its entirety. Buying supplies. How to clean up beforehand. Stretching. Using enough lube. How to clean up afterwards. And then he’d taken a deep breath and really let himself  _ think about it. _

Because, armed with the knowledge that it is technically possible to get involved with that kind of stuff without having to deal with what comes out of there...the idea of having Richie  _ inside  _ him suddenly became  _ incredibly  _ appealing. Less on a physical level and—he’d felt cheesy even thinking it at the time—more like, emotionally? Like, being face-to-face with him and being able to put their arms around each other. That kind of stuff.

So of course, he had then hidden the pamphlet (and the free condoms) in the bathroom drawer, under a bunch of bandages and gauze and other emergency supplies Richie never looks at, and not opened it for a month.

But he couldn’t put the thought away as easily as the paper. It stuck around in the periphery of his consciousness and popped up inconveniently in class sometimes, and (more understandably), whenever he and Richie were doing other stuff together. He’d have Richie on top of him, and they’d be grinding, and then Richie would slide down his body and he’d suddenly remember that if they were doing it  _ the other way,  _ he’d still be kissing him. Eddie could wrap his legs around Richie’s hips, and Richie could sink into him… 

“You doing okay up there?” Richie asked him once after pulling off for a second.

“Yeah, why?” Eddie had panted, out of breath because, despite the distraction of  _ should we maybe try…?  _ Richie sucking him off still feels amazing and he’d been getting close to coming.

Richie had squinted at him. “You’re making a weird face.”

“Congratulations,” Eddie had told him, “now you are too.”

Richie had laughed, and gone back to blowing him, and then Eddie had come and done it back like he always does. It had been great, like it always is, and the  _ weird face  _ discussion went no further. But he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something he never had in the first place.

The next day, Eddie had gone to Savon and picked up all the stuff the pamphlet had recommended plus a small package of latex gloves. Because...well, he figured he had to start somewhere.

His first attempt to stick a finger up there had not gone smoothly. Eddie should’ve expected that because when has anything  _ ever _ come easily to him? It felt strange and uncomfortable and he honestly couldn’t figure out how anyone could possibly  _ enjoy  _ this. But he kept going, because he’s a stubborn little bitch and  _ goddamnit,  _ the more he thought about it, the more sure he was that...that  _ this _ is something he  _ really _ wants to be able to make happen.

So he’d done it again the next day, and then a few days later, and then... _ holy shit.  _ After a week or so, it suddenly was a lot easier, and somewhere along the line, it stopped feeling weird and started feeling  _ good.  _ And then it started feeling like maybe he could stand to try one more finger. And then another one. And then before he knew it, he’d run out of gloves and had to buy more.

And now, it’s been three months since Richie brought home that damn pamphlet, and Eddie can get three fingers in his ass every time he tries, no problem, and he’s possibly actually _ literally dying  _ to try it with Richie’s dick.

Oh, also he’s still managed to avoid even mentioning any of this to Richie. Cause like...how do you tell someone, even the love of your life,  _ Hey, I want you to stick your dick up my ass?  _ If he was Richie, he’d just say it like that. But he’s not. He’s not Richie, he’s a neurotic spaz, and there’s a very distinct likelihood that he will end up just dying of old age before he manages to work up the courage to bring it up.

And this is what he’s thinking about—just laying there on his stomach and feeling sorry for himself because he’s  _ The Worst _ —when Richie finishes using the bathroom and brushing his teeth and walks into the bedroom.

“Hey,” says Richie from the doorway. Eddie turns around and immediately wants to smother himself with his pillow. “What’s this?” Richie brandishes the half-empty box of latex gloves at him. He’s leaning up against the door and wearing nothing but boxers.

“What were you doing in the First Aid kit?” Eddie asks, heart hammering.  _ Deflect, deflect, deflect! Abort, abort, abort! _

“Looking for a band aid,” says Richie, pulling out one of the gloves and setting the box on the dresser. “I like jammed my toe or something at work today.”

Eddie sits up in bed to get a look at Richie’s feet. His little toe on his left foot is fucking  _ purple. _

“Oh my God, what did you—”

“It barely hurts anymore. I’m fine,” Richie brushes him off, now examining the glove he’s holding. Eddie is positive he’s planning on blowing it up like a balloon.

“Still, you—”

“So, what are these for?” Richie says, circling his thumb and forefinger around the opening of the glove. “Been doing your own prostate exams?” He holds it up to his mouth.

_ Whoooooh. Whoooooh.  _ Richie is inflating the glove, just like Eddie thought he would. Eddie debates for a few seconds before...fuck it. “Something like that,” he says quickly, looking at his own lap.

Richie stops blowing. There is a long pause, during which the only sound is of the air slowly escaping the opening in Richie’s glove balloon.  _ Ffffffffffffssshhhhhh… _

“Um…” Eddie isn’t looking at him, but he can almost hear the cogs working furiously in Richie’s brain. “Why?”

Eddie does not think he can physically handle continuing this conversation out in the open, where Richie can look at his face as he slowly turns into a tomato. So—and he’s not proud of this—he pulls the covers all the way over his head and sinks down until he’s lying on his stomach again, face pressed into the sheets.

Richie snorts. “Where the fuck are you going?” he asks. Eddie hears his footsteps coming closer.

Eddie heaves an affected sigh.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really fucking dramatic?” Richie says. He sits down on the bed right next to where Eddie has turtled into the blankets.

“Yes,” Eddie mumbles.

“Okay, so...what’s going on? You’ve been putting on doctor gloves and sticking your fingers up your ass? Find anything good up there?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies. He sure has.

“Really?” Richie pauses for a second. “You uh...do you wanna tell me about it?”

“Um...no.”

“Why not?” Richie’s hand is on his back, over the covers, smoothing up and down. Soothing, but still giving Eddie his space.

“It’s…I just don’t know how to…ask.”

“I can barely hear you,” Richie says, “but I think you said you don’t know how to ask. Ask what? Just tell me.”

Eddie’s face is red. His ears are red. Steam is probably coming off the top of his head.  Also he’s definitely going to die of suffocation under the blankets. Isn’t there a way he can like, fast forward through this conversation so he doesn’t have to actually experience it as it happens? 

But he must be tougher than he thinks he is because he says, “I kind of want to...you know, try  _ that _ . With you. Like…”

“Like, you want me to finger you while I blow you?” Richie says.

“I mean, maybe, yeah,” says Eddie, still talking to the mattress. “But also...more.”

It’s quiet for a second.

“Alright babe, I get that you’re having some issues here but I’m gonna need you to come out of there and actually talk to me,” Richie says finally, peeling back the comforter. “Come on.”

“Why?” Eddie whines, clinging to the sheet he has pulled over his head.

“Because...I love you?” says Richie, yanking the sheet out from between Eddie’s fingers. Eddie feels the air hit his exposed arms. “Because...if me like, putting on a gimp suit and a dog collar and hanging upside down from the ceiling would get you off, I’d totally do it?” He leans down until his face is right next to Eddie’s, and then he’s kissing his neck in between words. “Because...I’ve wanted to get all up in that ass for like...literally more than a quarter of my entire  _ life _ ...and I need you to tell me exactly  _ what  _ you’re asking me to do before I cream my pants just thinking about it?”

Eddie can’t help it. He starts laughing as he turns his head to the side, catching Richie’s eyes. Richie looks as flushed as Eddie feels, either he’s embarrassed too or...Eddie’s eyes trail down his body. Nope. Not embarrassed. Just turned on. Eddie reaches a hand out and pokes at Richie’s dick over his boxers to assess… Okay. He’s like, solidly hard. Already. Richie inhales sharply. Eddie lets out a low whistle.

Richie grins at him. “So you want me to fuck you in the ass?”

Just... _ why _ is he like this? “I mean...you could try  _ not  _ saying it like that? But yeah. Basically.”

“What do you want me to  _ say it like _ then?” asks Richie, but he’s smiling hugely and pushing on Eddie’s side. “My dearest, darling Eddie…”

“Ugh,” Eddie groans, allowing himself to be rolled over onto his back, “please don’t—”

“—my angel, my love, my sweet, precious—” Richie climbs on top of him, a knee on either side of his hips. He leans down and starts peppering Eddie’s face with kisses.

“Oh my god,  _ stop _ it—”

“—please do me the honor of parting the cheeks of your amazingly perky,  _ cute, _ little—” Richie squeezes Eddie’s cheeks (the ones on his face) between his long fingers.

“I’m gonna change my mind if you keep going,” Eddie warns him, wrenching his face out of Richie’s grasp.

Richie laughs. “Okay, okay. How do you want to—”

“Um,” Eddie bites his lip. “Hold on. Gimme a sec.”

Eddie wiggles out from under him and skitters off to the bathroom.

“Did I scare you off?” Richie calls from the bed. “Cause I swear, if I said something, I just...I can’t think with all my blood like rushing down to my dick and—”

“No no no,” Eddie calls back, rummaging in his First Aid kit for the condoms Richie got when he picked up the pamphlet. “I’m just getting some stuff, I’ll be right back.”

“Stuff? What stuff? Kinky stuff?”

“What? No,” says Eddie, emerging from the drawer with extra lube and two condoms, just in case. He grabs the towel hanging over the shower curtain rod and comes back into the bedroom to find Richie waiting for him—well, not really  _ waiting, _ he’s got a hand in his boxers, which he pulls out immediately when Eddie returns like he thinks Eddie might not have seen him—with his back propped up against the pillows. His eyes drop to look at the supplies in Eddie’s hands and he makes a face.

“Condoms? Really?”

Eddie guesses that’s fair. They had shitty sex ed back in Derry and didn’t realize that you’re supposed to use condoms for blowjobs until they got to college, but by then they’d been doing it without them for  _ years _ and it was kind of like,  _ Whoops, oh well.  _ So he gets why Richie is balking, but this is different.

“If you pull out after and like, I see shit on your dick? I will  _ literally _ throw myself out the window,” Eddie tells him. “Or blood.”

“Okay, well, first of all,” Richie says, accepting the condoms and lube as Eddie approaches the bed, “there’s not gonna be any blood, because you’re gonna tell me if it hurts, and I’ll fucking stop. And I really don’t care about—”

“Yeah, I know you  _ don’t _ care,” Eddie interrupts, sliding the towel underneath them and kneeling in between Richie’s legs. “But you really  _ should _ . I mean, I cleaned everything out a couple hours ago, but just in case, it’s fucking—”

“Alright, alright.” Richie holds up his hands in defeat, setting the condoms and lube on the bedside table next to the latex gloves. “Look, whatever you want. So uh...where do you want me, babe?”

Eddie furrows his brows and thinks for a minute.  _ From behind  _ is out because like...it kind of defeats the purpose of them doing this in the first place, at least for Eddie. It’s  _ unromantic.  _ He likes the idea of Richie on top of him  _ a lot,  _ but he’s not sure it’s a good position to start off with because it kind of requires him to bend in half and fold his legs up. Eddie’s decently flexible but maybe not  _ that _ flexible, at least not without practicing. Also he’s skeptical that Richie has the necessary upper-body strength to hold himself up like that and thrust at the same time, especially if it’s going to last longer than a few minutes.

“How about like this?” Eddie asks, gesturing between them. “Like, you lay there how you are now, and I kind of just…”

“Oh, like you ride me?”

_ Ugh.  _ Why do all these positions have such cringey names? “Uh huh. What do you think?”

Richie gives him an  _ are you serious  _ look. “I... _ fuck yes.  _ But this whole thing is The Eddie Show. I’m guest starring here. You just tell me—”

“Yeah, that’s good,” Eddie says quickly. “Um. I have to like...stretch it out first.” He grimaces because all of this is so awkward to say out loud, but Richie doesn’t appear to have noticed.

“Don’t you want me to do that?” Richie asks, trying to peer around Eddie like he’s just gonna turn around and stick his ass in Richie’s face. Eddie raises his eyebrows in challenge.

“Do you know how?”

Richie shrugs. “Well, I could like...eat your—or are we not there yet?” He changes course mid sentence, probably due to the expression on Eddie’s face.

“We’re not there yet.” Eddie shakes his head quickly. “And I don’t want you sticking your fingers up there either. Not unless you really know what you’re doing. Maybe next time or like...I can teach you or something.”

Richie seems to get that there’s no use arguing. “Sure, I don’t mind watching. What do you want me to do while you’re doing that?”

_ That,  _ Eddie has an answer for. “What you usually do. I’ll work on stuff...back there, and you—”

Richie licks his lips.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “You do that.”

It feels weird to be like, negotiating how this is going to work, because they’ve been doing the same shit for  _ years,  _ and even before this… there wasn’t much in the way of explanation when they gave each other handjobs the first time because both of them knew how to jerk off and it wasn’t  _ that  _ different. Well, other than Richie being like,  _ Look, if you don’t want it to get all over your shirt next time, you gotta tell me when you’re about to come.  _ And Eddie learned  _ so _ much about how to give head by watching Richie do it to him (and listening to Richie talk endlessly about how much he  _ loves _ doing it to him), that when Eddie had just impulsively decided to try it one night during junior year, he didn’t need any instruction.

But then it stops feeling weird, because Richie leans up and starts kissing him, pulling him close by his back. The slow, soft kind of kissing; Eddie’s favorite. Richie’s eyes are closed, and he hums low in his throat, and for a few minutes Eddie tries to forget that they’re about to do something new and scary _. _ It kind of works too. Eddie’s hand moves automatically into Richie’s hair, the other one resting on his chest, and Richie’s fingers are all over the place—touching his face, his neck, pulling off his t-shirt.

Well, technically it’s Richie’s shirt. Eddie long ago ditched the pretense of owning real pajamas. He just wears Richie’s clothes to bed, because they’re all really comfortable and soft and they smell like Richie. Also they’re huge on him and Richie has admitted it’s sort of big turn on to watch the collar of his old Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt slip off Eddie’s shoulder. Probably for that reason, they both end up falling asleep naked half the time anyway.

Eddie starts a slow grind in Richie’s lap, and Richie holds him still, fingers dipping under the waistband of Eddie’s boxer briefs, hovering around his tailbone. Which reminds Eddie of what he’s supposed to be doing. He pulls back from their kiss.

“I’m not trying to rush you, I swear to God,” Richie whispers, his voice already hoarse and low. “I’m just...you know, getting kind of worked up. Like...I want to not fuck this up for you.”

Richie normally has pretty good control over himself, but there have been a couple incidents over the years where he’s... _ jumped the gun,  _ so to speak, which usually seem to coincide with them trying new things. Eddie doesn’t really consider it a big deal, but he knows Richie’s going to be bummed if it happens tonight, so he lifts himself off Richie’s dick. Richie lets out a breath through his nose.

“I’m gonna...here,” Eddie says, rolling off of Richie. He wiggles out of his underwear, then reaches over to the bedside table, grabbing the glove Richie was playing with earlier and the lube.

“Oh yeah,” Richie says, wagging his eyebrows as Eddie snaps the glove over his right hand. “Check  _ you _ out, Dr. K. Gonna give me a physical?”

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head and squeezing out a big glob of lube onto his fingers, rubbing it between them to warm it. Richie has shifted so that he’s laying on his side and is now staring at Eddie very intently.

“I wanna see how you do this,” he says. It’s kind of weird and nerve-wracking being watched, but Eddie gets settled on his side, face-to-face with Richie, and then reaches behind his back and starts touching himself the way he’s done in the bathroom.  _ It’s exactly the same,  _ he tells his body, bending his top leg forward.  _ You know what to do. _

_ “God,” _ Richie groans after a moment, touching Eddie’s side and watching over his body. “I’m gonna fucking  _ die.” _

“Now who’s being dramatic?” Eddie breathes, furrowing his eyebrows and trying to  _ relax, damnit. _

Richie doesn’t answer. Instead he kisses Eddie’s neck—a wet kiss that slowly moves lower, over Eddie’s chest and his nipples and down his stomach—and before he knows it, Richie’s pushed his leg up so he can start kissing and licking up Eddie’s dick. He inhales audibly before sucking the head into his mouth.

Something Eddie hadn’t really expected happens when he does that. Apparently the combination of his fingers and Richie’s mouth at once are about a million times better than one of those things at a time. Like...he’s gotten to the point where it feels really good when he uses his fingers, but he’s never actually come like that. But he could  _ totally  _ do it like this. Like  _ for real, _ if he’s not careful… Eddie lets out a shuddery gasp and an  _ oh  _ and Richie grips hard on his thigh. He slides a third finger in with no resistance.

“Okay,” he says shakily, less than a minute later, patting Richie’s shoulder with his free hand to get him to stop. It’s gonna be over before they even start otherwise. Richie pulls off and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, sitting up and turning away from Eddie slightly. Eddie removes his fingers from his ass and throws the glove into the trash can by the bed. It occurs to him that it’s very possible Richie might’ve lost his erection at some point in the last few minutes, so he turns to Richie and says, “Do you want me to use my mouth or my hand to— _ oookay,  _ nevermind.”

He doesn’t even finish his thought because Richie is already rolling a condom onto his dick, which is, if possible, even harder than it was before.

Richie examines the faint sheen of the pre-lubed condom. “Do I need more lu—”

“Yes.” Eddie tosses him the bottle. “Like,  _ a lot  _ more. That’s why I put a towel down.”

Richie squeezes out lube directly onto his dick in thick line, like how you might put mustard on a hot dog,  _ ugh,  _ and then uses his hand to smear it around and coat the whole thing. “Is that good?”

Eddie doesn’t want to be like,  _ Efficient but unattractive, C+,  _ so he just smiles and nods as Richie gets into position on his back, head propped up on pillows. He looks expectantly over at Eddie like... _ Okay, hop on.  _ Eddie takes a deep breath.

How has he never noticed how like, well-endowed Richie is? Richie’s dick has always just been Richie’s dick—Eddie’s never really put a lot of thought into the size of it before—and logically he’s aware that Richie falls well within the  _ normal  _ range for both length and girth, especially considering his height. Richie’s dick is, you know, decently big, but it’s not  _ gigantic.  _ Eddie has never felt  _ intimidated  _ by it before, not even the first time he put it in his mouth. Like, Eddie remembers thinking it looked weird the first time he saw it, just because it’s Richie and everything about him is weird, but he got over that pretty fucking quickly, especially after he touched it and Richie let out this  _ noise  _ that—god. Okay. Eddie can do this. He’s ready. He’s fucking  _ got this. _

“You know,” Richie says, as Eddie settles in with his knees on either side of his waist, “if we fuck up, like...it’s not a big deal, right? We can always just try it again tomorrow?” He looks a little nervous, like maybe he’s saying it less for Eddie and more for himself. Like he’s worried  _ he’s _ going to fuck it up and that Eddie will be mad.

“Oh yeah,” says Eddie, placing a hand on Richie’s stomach to steady himself and sort of...hovering. He tries to look more confident than he feels because at least  _ someone  _ should pretend they know what they’re doing. Right? “It’s…”

Richie stares up at him, glances down between their bodies, and looks up again. 

“You know what?” Eddie says, swallowing hard. “I’m just gonna do it. Okay.”

He positions Richie’s dick with his other hand, and sinks down while letting out a big exhale, trying to like...unclench. Stay loose.  _ Relax. _

His first thought is that there is  _ no way ever  _ this is going to work. Like, he might as well try to shove a bowling ball up… Actually, maybe not. It doesn’t  _ feel  _ like it’s going to fit, but it does undeniably start to do so. It’s not  _ good,  _ exactly—not  _ yet,  _ Eddie corrects himself—but it’s not bad either. Just kind of...full, and strange. He lowers himself a little further until he’s pretty sure he’s got the whole head in, and then looks up at Richie’s face.

Richie is watching, hands on Eddie’s hips, eyebrows furrowed. “Does it hurt?” he blurts out.

Eddie shakes his head. “Good?” he asks breathlessly.

Richie nods as Eddie continues to inch his way down. “Different, but like…” He swallows. “I can already tell it’s gonna be  _ really _ fucking good. And you look so hot right now, oh my God.” And then he stops talking, and all Eddie can hear is the sound of his breathing, loud and heavy. One of Richie’s hands leaves Eddie’s hips for a second to push his hair out of his face.

Eddie lets out another big sigh as he  _ finally  _ reaches the base and can’t go any farther. He leans forward and rests a little bit of his weight on Richie.

“I want to fucking  _ die _ like this,” Richie announces, staring up at him. “This is the way to go. Jesus, I wish you could like...see yourself right now.”

Eddie suddenly feels a little shy about being looked at the way Richie is looking at him right now. He’s been naked on top of Richie a thousand times, but now Richie is  _ inside  _ him and it’s different. “I don’t,” Eddie says, not looking him in the eye and fully taking advantage of having both hands free to roam around Richie’s chest and stomach.

“You’ve never looked sexier,” Richie insists. “You’re making me wish I had a second dick so I could fuck you  _ more.”  _ Eddie snaps his head up to stare at him.

“Okay that’s…” Eddie shakes his head. “Just stop. Just shut up.”

Richie smiles and raises his eyebrows. “Make me.”

Eddie narrows his eyes, raises himself up a little, and bears back down.

“Oh Jesus,” Richie whispers, eyes fluttering closed. Eddie does it again and he moans.

“That’s good?” Eddie asks.

“Uh huh,” Richie all but breathes out. Eddie rocks back and forth a couple of times to try and— _ Ohhh. _

“Keep doing that,” Richie says, eyes tightly shut. Eddie doesn’t need to be told that—he’s hitting something up there on the rocking motion that almost has his eyes rolling back in his head. His toes start to curl on either side of Richie’s knees.

Maybe it’s not like movie-romantic, but Eddie decides in that moment that all the stress and preparation and stuff was all totally worth this. The movement he’s doing is mostly in his thighs and glutes and it’s surprisingly easy, almost instinctive. Honestly, he could probably keep at it for hours, which doesn’t sound entirely unpleasant. He can’t really kiss Richie from here like he wanted to, but he can also tell that it’s something that won’t be difficult after a little practice. Besides, looking at him like this is almost as good. Dark hair splayed out against the pillow, lips parted, panting in time with the thrust of Eddie’s hips. His hands grip tight to Eddie’s waist. They’re clearly onto something here.

Eddie starts to try and lean down, his hands on either side of Richie’s shoulders, when Richie very suddenly removes a hand from one of Eddie’s hips, reaches down between them, and starts jerking him off like his life depends on it.

_ “I’mgonnacome,” _ Richie whispers, and then he leans up just a little so that their lips are barely touching and  _ holy shit,  _ Eddie can feel his whole body shaking. It’s weird not to be like, able to  _ see  _ Richie’s dick because Eddie is so used to that being the focal point of everything when Richie comes, which Eddie’s sure it still is for Richie. But since Eddie doesn’t have visual access to it right now, he’s kind of forced to focus on everything else, like Richie’s face, his almost-closed eyes, the flush in his cheeks under the freckles. Richie comes quietly—the only thing he ever does without talking, actually—beautifully, and then sort of falls back against the pillows, hand still stroking Eddie between them.

_ “Ughhshit, _ sorry,” Richie breathes out less than two seconds later, low and raspy and wonderful. Eddie stops moving and opens his mouth to say not to worry about it or something, but just then Richie swipes his thumb over the head of Eddie’s dick and he realizes he’s like...seconds away from coming himself. So he instead leans forward even more; Richie cranes his neck up again, and then they’re kissing, that soft, warm kissing that Eddie can’t get enough of, the kind he always feels like melting right into.

As soon as he starts to come, Eddie realizes that he is  _ totally _ fucked—both literally and figuratively. He’s not moving anymore, but Richie is still inside him and still really hard and he clenches up around him as he comes and... _ fuck. Wow.  _ This entire situation was a terrible idea. He’s ruined forever because it’s just  _ so much better  _ than it’s ever been before—like, a whole new  _ level  _ of amazing.  His eyes squeeze shut and his fingers and toes curl and and he makes a noise that sounds like it was punched out of him, and it lasts for approximately a million years before he finally just collapses forward onto Richie without bothering to get off his dick.

“Uh…whoa?” Richie says into his hair, like a question that needs answering. His arms wrap around Eddie’s back, holding him close.

“What?” Eddie pants, cognizant of the sticky mess he’s made in between them but physically incapable of moving to do anything about it.

“That...you were...that just looked, like, intense as hell,” Richie says. “Felt like it too.”

“Huh?” Eddie is having trouble processing anything other than the fact that Richie seems to want a response, and Eddie is still stuck in blob form for the foreseeable future.

“I mean I could feel your ass clenching,” Richie says, making his fist into a vice and squeezing it a few times to demonstrate, like Eddie doesn’t know what he means.

“Was that weird?” Eddie asks. His voice is probably muffled in Richie’s shoulder, but he doesn’t care enough to move.

“Yeah,” Richie says. “Kinda cool though. But like, I already came so. I bet it would’ve been fucking amazing if I hadn’t.”

“Hmm.”

“And you were like...I dunno, you usually kind of go still or just like arch your back but you were like...shaking and shit,” Richie continues. “Did you like it?”

Eddie wants to be snarky and say something like,  _ What do you think, fuckface,  _ but he can’t really summon the energy to be sarcastic and bitchy. “Yeah.”

Richie’s jaw moves against the top of Eddie’s head—he’s smiling. Eddie smiles too.

“I would’ve thought you’d be freaking out by now,” Richie says after a minute or possibly an hour.

“Why?” Eddie asks.

“Cause like, you’re covered in cum? You hate that.”

Eddie groans and manages to lift himself off of Richie enough to discover that they’ve apparently been practically glued together by drying semen, which is something Eddie can safely say he did not anticipate and would like not to ever experience again. Also, there’s lube everywhere.

“I was gonna ask if you could maybe clean this shit up, but nope. Shower. Now. Both of us,” orders Eddie. “This is like...not a Wet Ones job.”

Richie grabs a tissue, pulls the condom off and throws it away so fucking fast that Eddie doesn’t get a chance to inspect it for even a second. It’s a weird thing to fixate on, but it kind of gives him butterflies because it’s exactly the bizarre type of consideration that has him falling in love with Richie all over again.

Richie stands up, stretches his arms so high his fingertips nearly graze their bedroom ceiling, and flashes Eddie a grin. “I’ll Wet  _ your  _ One, _ ” _ he says.

And then there’s  _ that. _

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! i'm on tumblr at [yallreddieforthis](https://yallreddieforthis.tumblr.com/), come talk to me!


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